The Awakening
by Leopardess
Summary: The beast is ruthless. Se's cruel, and has been asleep for centuries. But someone woke her and now she hungers for his blood.


For anyone waiting for the next chapter of Light World well, I've got half of it done and *grimacing* I really have no excuse for taking so atrociously long. I can't even use this story as an excuse because this was written a while ago. I deserve to be shot.  
  
Tell me what you think of this. Anything. I can take it.  
  
  
  
The Awakening  
  
  
  
It was a quiet night. A night of gentle breezes fluttering by ever still trees; of leaves dancing slowly, basking in the freedom of the dark. The boy never expected what he would awaken the beast. He thought he was alone. He thought that he was safe. He thought wrong.  
  
It wasn't a large cosmic force that woke the beast, nor was it a loud noise. It was tiny pinprick of emotion.  
  
Fear.  
  
The hypnotic fragrance filled her nostrils. She smiled ruthlessly, the love of the hunt instantly flooding her senses. She breathed in deeply, trying to draw in more of this succulent scent. She grew heady with the pleasure. She wanted to find this scent, to devour it.  
  
The pleasure slowly turned into something else; a pain gnawing at her insistently; wanting her attention, refusing to abate. She tried to figure out what it was, but her brain was fuzzy. It felt like the touch of tiny butterfly wings quivering furiously in her mind. What's wrong with me? She thought desperately of anything that was the matter. He brain was muddled from sleep, she tried to figure out what the problem was by checking her senses one by one.  
  
Touch. She could feel coarseness on her body. It felt like the abrasive texture of dried earth, her hands dirty they rolled over the ground with little resistance. She felt earth beneath every piece of uncovered skin. She was lying down. Ok, she thought, what else?  
  
Smell. She took a deep breath and gave a big hacking cough. She had inhaled dry pieces of dirt in her enthusiastic gasp of air. In spite of the dirt, she recognised fear and damp earth.  
  
Hearing. Her hearing was muffled. Each sound felt like it was travelling through a barrier before it reached her ear. She was not outside. She could hear muffled breathing, the slow footsteps of the fearful.  
  
Sight. She opened her eyes. Closed them. Opened them again. A snarl of abject frustration. She couldn't see. There was only black; a darkness she felt was getting closer, it was closing in on her. She hated the dark. She was a creature of the dark, but this dark had none of the small pinpricks of light that dotted the night's sky. There must not be a window here. Okay, she thought calmly once more, what else?  
  
Taste. Her mouth was unbearably dry. She tried wetting her lips with her tongue and it felt like rubbing raw skin with sandpaper. She was thirsty, and in a blinding flash of knowledge, she realised what that unusual pain was. She was hungry.  
  
Her stomach cramped painfully, as if her hunger was waiting for her to realise it before it completely showed itself. She had never felt this hungry before. Her breathing came out in shallow gasps. She had to relax because she was so hungry she would pounce on anything living.  
  
It was then she remembered the scent of fear. She took greedy gulps of air savouring the fragrance. She needed to feed. She needed to follow that smell. Her nails were scraping at the earth and suddenly they weren't nails anymore.  
  
She felt herself shift; she felt the ripple of her skin as it grew hair, felt her jaw extend and whiskers grow swiftly. She was no longer a girl but a wolf swiping away clumps of earth. She was tired, but continued striking at the dirt, the fragrance driving her.  
  
A paw made it to the top of the earth where the scent of fear was stronger. It fuelled her and she swiped faster. She sprang from the hole and ran towards the fear. The night breeze softly brushed past her fur as she ran. She stopped in mid run and threw her head up to the sky, breathing deeply through her nostrils. She shivered with excitement. It had been a long time since her last feed. The trees had grown and the scent of flowers almost covered the scent of fear. Almost.  
  
She was energised by the fear and she let out a snarling growl. Her ears perked, she heard a fain rustling in the bushes. Her mouth spread into a surprisingly human smile. She had located her prey.  
  
The wolf advanced slowly on the bushes, now that her prey was close, she wanted to take her time with this killing, to savour the taste of flesh. Images appeared in her mind's eye of previous hunts and the wolf became stimulated by her memories.  
  
Her body broke though the bush, she could feel it sweeping past her fur in a careless wave of leaves. The leaves and twigs scraped at the wolf, a tickle of sensation, ignored by the focused beast. Her eyes glued to the boy. The closer she skulked, the stronger the fragrance of fear. Yet the fragrance was now tainted by the scent of hope. She wrinkled her nose, and stealthily moved forward.  
  
Hope. Jon felt a spark of it as he looked around him. Maybe his friends were hiding and laughing at his fear. Maybe they were on their way to pick him up. Maybe some person would find him. Maybe. Maybe is a dangerous game to play.  
  
He refused to move from this spot. His friends had picked him up at home, and after a struggle had crammed him into the boot of his car and drove here. He could hear them in the car as they laughed and yelled out to him, their voices muted by the wall of the boot.  
  
"Nearly there, Jon," one friend had yelled. "Yeah, and after this you'll be initiated as an adult." Another had bellowed, "You're eighteen now, mate." Sounds of laughter had pierced through to the boot as he lay pounding on any surface he could find. His hands, rolled into fists, had begun to throb with pain as he fought; yelled abuse at his friends. He had felt trapped, like the walls were too close. The more he panicked, and the louder he yelled, the harder it was for him to breathe. He was bumped from one side of the boot to the other and each painful collision with the car's interior, made him more anxious to escape from his cramped prison.  
  
It always seemed more fun on the outside, and the protests of his friends had been ignored as were his tonight. Now he was standing on one lonely piece of earth with orders to find his own way out. He couldn't believe he had found this joke so funny when he had played it on Matt and Stephen.  
  
Now it just seemed immature and foolish. He heard a small whisper of sound and whirled to the source of the noise. His heart stopped and he felt his fear lodge at the back of his throat. It wasn't possible; he was hallucinating. Yes, yes that's it, his brain tried to convince him. You're so scared, that you're making this up. "You're only a figment of my imagination," Jon whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. He thought of all the people who had disappeared in these woods and became dizzy with the implied premonition of his own demise.  
  
The wolf gave what seemed to be a distinctly human smirk and just stood there, tense, waiting, still. She suddenly felt the urge to play with her food, to prolong the pleasure. She advanced slowly; she didn't want to frighten him. Yet.  
  
Jon's breathing grew shallow, his eyes blurred and his heart tripped a beat that was overwhelming his ears. I can't deal with this. Oh my God, I didn't say goodbye to my parents. Since when are there wolves in Australia? Meaningless thoughts slipped through his brain as it tried to find the logic in his situation. Every time he thought he had finally figured it out, the thought would slip away leaving no trace of it ever being in his mind.  
  
A cacophony of sounds enveloped him as his mind developed a cocoon of denial around him. This isn't happening, his mind reassured him, and it's just your imagination. He heard the sharp sounds of crickets, the rustling of leaves and . . . nothing. I don't see a wolf. Yes that's it. It's not there.  
  
Relax. The word filtered into his head, and it seemed so convincing. Yes, I should relax. There's nothing to be afraid of. I can turn around and walk away now and nothing will happen, because it's not there. There's nothing there; especially some wolf. Don't walk away. Stand there. There was that voice again. It seemed like the thought wasn't his; it seemed like it had to travel through mist to reach his consciousness. In the recesses of his mind he knew that was impossible, but his brain was too engrossed in this situation that it failed to hear its own statements.  
  
It was then he tried to examine the voice. Panic seeped through to his brain; the voice was unfamiliar. It was unfamiliar, yet it seemed to belong in his head. As if it was always meant to be in his head; as if it belonged there. He didn't understand what these strange thoughts were but he somehow knew they were right.  
  
When he had relaxed his stiff posture, the beast leaped into the air. She seemed to be suspended in the heavens for an hour before she landed with a thud on his still unbelieving body. In the air, she seemed like more than just a wolf, like an avenging angel coming down to punish him for his sins.  
  
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. His thought processes were unable to function. He was paralysed in his position and suddenly there was pain. He landed on his back with the beast on top. Her breath was on his face, but his brain was still dealing with the pain.  
  
Such excruciating pain, his back was throbbing. He landed on the bruises he had acquired on the ride to the woods. His body was an enflamed throbbing mass of sensation. The pain reverberated to every part of his body until he was tingling with numbness, grateful for the reprieve from the hurt.  
  
He opened the eyes he never noticed had closed and there she was. In her magnificent glory, was the beast, with snarling mouth and wild eyes. Hungry eyes. Oh God, he thought again.  
  
It was then that he brought up his arm almost instinctively to shield his face from the coming attack. It was a futile gesture, the only one his muddled mind could come up with. As his arm rose to his face, she brought her head down almost curiously.  
  
And then . . . something happened.  
  
His body felt like it was on fire and the point of the blaze started from the contact with the wolf. Every other part of the wolf was touching clothing; this was skin-to-skin contact. It wasn't pain; it was recognition of a like soul. It's you, the voice whispered in his head, wonder evident in the tone, and now he realised it was her voice. He didn't know how he knew the gender of the wolf and he didn't question the knowledge. He knew somehow that it was true.  
  
The beast was confused. What's happening to me? The thought was a flicker of her stubborn spirit, for she new what it was. She just knew. But it can't, she denied. Not to me. Never me. I'm always alone. I was born alone and I will die alone.  
  
Not anymore, he thought to her. He was more trusting of this link between both their minds than she was. This was meant to be. Can't you see that?  
  
She could feel the rightness of this feeling. But still . . . Could she trust him? She recognised his fighting spirit and knew she could never kill him. His death would bring about her own demise. But could she trust him to be like her?  
  
Could she put his life in jeopardy?  
  
She gave him one last look, memorising his features, knowing that his face would always comfort her. His blondness with her brownness weren't their only differences. They only highlighted their differences more. She knew she couldn't put his life in danger; she couldn't.  
  
"Don't go," he whispered aloud and the spell between them was broken. Her sensitive ears could pick up the sound of a car with human male voices, and she knew he would be safe if she left.  
  
He saw her disappear into the bush and he knew he would never see her again. His eyes had never seen her in human form, but his mind eye knew what she would look like. She would have curly brown hair and dark chocolate coloured skin.  
  
He could feel her pain as she ran further away from him and he knew he would never again feel the sensation of belonging with anyone else. Yet, at the same time, he knew that being together would never have made either of them happy. They were too different. She was used to being the hunter, he the prey.  
  
As he walked, a breeze wafted by him ruffling his clothes and blew away her prints.  
  
The mournful sound of a wolf's howl echoed into the night. The plaintive cry filled the air for five glorious seconds before silence reigned undisturbed. He looked behind him at the ground, as any signs of her existence vanished into the night.  
  
He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the pain. It washed over him in waves of despair; he winced at the assault on his mind but stayed standing. Unable to believe this was happening he sank to the floor. He had never felt pain like this. It was emotional but it felt like physical hurt. He knew that this pain was not temporary; he would have it with him forever. A permanent reminder of what he had lost. It was agonizing, unbearable.  
  
A pain that splinters the body yet slaughters the soul.  
  
* * * 


End file.
